Musings Over Pints and Coffee
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People describe the empty nest like a threshold you cross once. The last kid loads the last box, the taillights disappear down the street, and you walk back into a house that has gone suddenly, permanently quiet. Then, the story goes, you stand in the doorway of a room that isn’t a bedroom anymore and you feel the whole thing land at once. Grief on one side, freedom on the other, a clean line between the before and the after.
That’s the version everybody hands you. It rests on two quiet assumpti…
The Ghastly Mirror
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My Third Blaugust entry, In Which my Gardening Adventures Lead me to find a very pleasant suprise.